REAL ESTATE - CHRIS BENTON
The door bell rings. I’m hoping it’s my wife consumed with forgiveness. Instead, it’s some guy wearing a shiny blue three piece suit with a gun pointed at my head. He backs me into my living room. I notice the gun he’s holding has a silencer. Not a good sign. He closes the door behind him and smiles like a waiter. He’s wearing surgical gloves, another bad sign.
“Hello, Larry,” he says and I recognize him. Jeremy Lander, a kid I used to beat the shit out of at Autumn Park Elementary whenever I was in a bad mood.
“Hey, Jeremy, long time no-see, bro.” I try to smile and fail miserably.
Jeremy blows both my kneecaps into bowls of bone salad. I collapse in a blinding red world of agony, which suddenly dims into a kinder pain. My eyes open to find Jeremy laying a syringe on the coffee table. He takes out a pair of pliers and bends down next to me.
“I was selling real estate,” he says. “As you know, the market is kind of slow...but I did discover a very rare, very remote piece of property.” He taps his temple softly with the pliers. “And it will never cease to appreciate in value.”
He unzips my jeans and, when I feel the cold mouth of the pliers begin to close, I wake up screaming again in another strange bed.
BIO: Chris Benton was born and raised in Wilmington, North Carolina where he still resides. He can be found on Facebook.
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3 comments:
Nasty tale told with a back alley surgeon's sure hand. "Cold mouth of the pliers" raised the hairs on the back of my arms and made . . . er . . . something else retract sharply. Tight and fast with a KO punch. Cool stuff, Chris.
"Bowls of bone salad"=excellent
Ouch! Revenge completed.
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